Page 38 of All the Things We Buried
“Sleep, Trouble,” he murmured, pulling me closer.
But I didn’t want to sleep. What he didn’t know was that I wanted to be awake for every second he was near. I only ever wanted to sleep when he was gone. Because in dreams, he was always there. And now, with him beside me, sleep felt pointless. He was the dream. And I was wide awake inside it.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
“You need rest,” he said quietly. “As your older brother, I have to make sure you’re really okay.”
“Stepbrother,” I corrected, brushing my throat before leaning up and resting against his chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Sophie’s?”
“Don’t ruin a good morning, Trouble,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Ooh,” I grinned, “trouble in paradise?”
He smiled. “Not everything is what it looks like.”
“I thought you were in love,” I said, making air quotes with my fingers.
“She’s got a stupid crush. I just went along with it,” he said, his eyes finding mine. Then he reached for a strand of my hair and rolled it between his fingers.
“Just went with it?” I laughed nervously. “So you don’t care?” I hesitated. “About her?”
“I don’t care about anyone, Trouble,” he said, sitting up.
“Not even me?” I asked, my voice catching.
He looked at me and laughed, light but sharp. “You’re cute.”
“Answer me,” I said, punching him in the chest.
“What kind of answer do you want?” He raised a brow. “Because whatever truth you’re looking for isn’t the one you want to hear.”
I sat up straighter, planting my hands on my thighs, staring at him. “Why are you doing this?”
He just laughed.
“Dorian,” I said softly, “do you care about me?”
“Is that really what you want to know?” His voice dropped, quiet but sharp. “Or is there something else you’re afraid to ask?”
“What else could there be?”
He stood up without answering. His eyes never left mine. Then he stepped close, placed a hand on my cheek, and dragged his thumb slowly across my bottom lip.
“Maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
But he only let out a soft chuckle and turned toward the door.
“Dorian, what?” I got to my feet, watching him. “Why are you doing this to me?” My voice cracked into a whisper as the door creaked open.
He slammed it shut again.
Then he spun back around and rushed toward me. I stumbled backward, heart racing, until my legs hit the edge of the bed frame.
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing to you?” he asked.
I swallowed hard as his face hovered inches above mine. I could feel his warm breath brushing against my lips.
